Live to Tell
by Psamathe
Summary: Rewrite of Episode 3.7. Gene/Alex. Jim Keats wasn't the first person to interrupt them that night..
1. Chapter 1

"Just the bill please, Luigi."

Gene Hunt bowed his head as Alex Drake's words cut through his heart.

"You're the feminist… you can pay half," Gene told her, unable to hide the bitterness in his voice. It was over. Finished. He'd told her the truth and she'd practically laughed in his face. She didn't trust him, didn't believe him. God he was sick of this… whatever this was between them. Damn woman had him wrapped around her little finger and she knew it.

For three long years he'd played her little games and he didn't know why he'd expected this 'date' to be any different. It only took a slutty dress and a glance at her tits to turn him into a drooling moron… they weren't even particularly nice tits. Who was he kidding? They were great tits. He'd do just about anything to get his hands on them.

Gene looked down at his wine glass, determined to salvage some of his dignity and walk out of here with his head held high. Enough. No more. Gene Hunt didn't chase the birds. They came to him … begging. All he had to do was come up with the perfect one liner… the perfect put down…

Shit.

He had nothing.

And Drake was opening her gob again.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

"Get your coat. You've pulled."

Gene looked up. There was no laughter in her eyes, no hidden joke at his expense. She was serious. Slowly, Gene stood up and held out his hand. Alex took it without hesitation, offering a shy, nervous smile as she did so. He couldn't help smiling back… although grinning like an idiot was probably a better description.

"Gene, the bill," she gently reminded him as Luigi bustled over with their coats.

Not bothering to count the money, Gene dropped a bundle of notes onto the table,

"Keep the change," he said as he let Alex Drake lead him out of the restaurant.

/\/\/\/\/\/

Running into a crowded restaurant clutching a tin of dynamite probably wasn't one of Ray Carling's greatest ideas. But he wanted to show the Guv and since the Guv was in Luigi's having a professional chat with DI Drake then into Luigi's Ray had to go.

He stopped dead when he got inside, his eyes frantically scanning the room. He couldn't see any sign of either Hunt or Drake. Annoyed he crossed to the bar.

"Luigi, where are they?" he asked.

"Upstairs… but perhaps you should wait a while Signor Carling …" the Italian answered.

Unfortunately, Ray wasn't the most discerning of individuals and he completely missed the note of caution in Luigi's tone.

"Not bloody likely, the Guv's going to love this," he grinned, rattling the box before heading up to the flat.

He ran up the stairs two at a time. In his mind he could already hear the Guv's words of praise. For once in his life, Ray knew that he'd managed to get one over on DI Drake. Whilst she'd been swigging back the Chianti, he Ray Carling, had made a valuable contribution to the case.

Brilliant.

But Ray was shocked out of his happy daydream by the murmur of voices from the landing above... A man's voice followed by a woman's laugh. He looked up. There was DI Drake, wearing her tart coat, staring at the man who was with her… she was all tits, teeth and come to bed eyes. Ray wondered which unfortunate wanker she'd managed to pick up…Poor sod.

It took him all of ten seconds to realise that the poor sod in question was the Guv.

Then Ray witnessed something that made him wish he'd followed Luigi's advice. Watching Shaz and Chris snog had been bad enough but this… this was just wrong. It wasn't even a proper kiss. Not like with that Elaine bird. The Guv been happy to stick his tongue straight down her throat but he was kissing Drake like he was scared or something.

Ray was, however, wise enough to realise that if he interrupted now his bollocks would probably end up in Luigi's meatballs. Never one to prevent a fellow brother getting his leg over, he decided that the safest course of action was to beat a hasty retreat.

"I'll give 'em half an hour," he said to Luigi when he got back to the bar.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/

There was a bottle of champagne in the fridge, soft lighting, candles … Gene couldn't help smiling as Alex led him into the flat.

"Looks like you were expecting me," he said.

"No," Alex replied. "I was hoping but… you're not that easy."

An unspoken memory passed between them. He had, after all, turned her down before. To cover the awkward moment, he opened the champagne, pouring for both of them.

Gene wasn't sure what was supposed to happen next. He wanted this night to last… do things right for once in his life. Looking around him, he quickly realised that a quick fumble under the duvet wasn't what Alex had planned, either. Slow… Gene took a deep breath… he could do slow.

"Dance with me," she said.

"Gene Hunt does not dance!"

The objection was automatic. Gene knew that he'd dance with her to the ends of the Earth if she asked. As expected, Alex ignored him and put some music on, a small smile hovering about her lips as she held out her hand to him. Gene took the hand she offered.

"Okay, let's get the dancing out of the way."

It was awkward at first, as their bodies adjusted to the rhythm of the music. One hand around her waist, the other holding her hand, Gene couldn't recall the last time he'd felt this much pleasure in simply holding a woman. Then again, no one had ever affected him in the same way as Alex Drake. Mouthy, posh, annoying… and he adored everything about her. After all of the shitty things that had happened, Gene was happy to find a measure of peace in her arms.

She dropped her head onto his shoulder with a little sigh. Unable to help himself, Gene brushed his lips across her forehead. He knew that he was being a bit of a girl but he realised that, with her, he could afford to let the mask slip just a little. It seemed to work too. A few moments later she raised her head, tilting it towards his.

This kiss was less tentative that the first and Gene took courage in the fact that she wasn't about to throw him out on his ear. An opinion that was reinforced when he felt her hand on his arse.

"Oi … Bolly, upstairs outside only," he teased.

But she just laughed and dragged his head back down to kiss him again. Okay, enough of the dancing, enough of the waiting, Gene decided that it was time to move things along a bit. Sweeping his hand up her back, he attempted to find the fastening of her dress. No zip at the back. He tried the front. Not unpleasant, as it gave him the opportunity to have a quick grope at her tits but he was quickly frustrated by the apparent lack of any way to get the dress off.

"Bloody hell… how do I get inside this thing."

"It unwraps," she giggled, "like a present."

Freeing herself from his arms, Alex Drake unwound the dress from her body.

"Happy birthday," she smiled as she let the garment drop to the floor, causing Gene to offer up a silent prayer of thanks to whomever might be listening. She was perfect... or almost. His eyes were drawn to the scar on her stomach. As he had done so many months ago, he reached out to touch it, letting his fingers linger over the damaged skin.

"Gene," Alex whispered. "Look at me."

Taking a deep breath, he did as she asked.

"I believe in you Gene … more than that."

He nodded even though her words could do little to take away the horror of what he had done. Not wanting to face those particular demons again, Gene changed the subject.

"Front or back, Bolly?" he asked, trying to keep his voice steady.

"Back."

This was no time to be fumbling with bra straps, Gene realised. His hands were sweaty, shaking… anyone would think he'd never done this before. He was conscious of the fact that he was still fully clothed whilst Alex stood before him clad in nothing more than a few scraps of lace. But Gene felt that he was the more vulnerable.

"You do it," he told her.

She raised an eyebrow at his request, fully aware of the affect that she was having on him. As he watched, Alex reached round and unclasped her bra. Only then did Gene step forward … this was a job that he didn't want to rush. His fingers reached out to tease one strap down her shoulder…

… just as there was a loud knock at the door.

"Guv? Guv? Are you still in there?"

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\


	2. Chapter 2

There had been times when Alex Drake could have cheerfully strangled Ray Carling but right now she almost felt sorry for the man. Even though there had been a legitimate reason for interrupting them, the Guv was not a happy man and was venting his frustration the only way he knew how… by shouting at Ray. Their voices carried easily from the kitchen into the darkened CID office but Alex had the suspicion that neither of them realised that she was there. Both men had left her flat first, giving Alex the chance to get her clothes back on.

"I gave you half an hour. You could have shagged her twice in that time!" Ray's protested, his voice going up an octave as he did so.

"Ever heard of foreplay Raymondo? The birds like it so I'm told."

There was a telling silence before Ray spoke again.

"But it were Drake. I mean she'd probably talk the whole bloody time you were trying to get her off. "

Bloody cheek! Alex clamped her hand over her mouth. It wasn't fair to laugh at him. Not really. For all of his tall stories, Ray really didn't have much of a clue when it came to women. Sometimes she wondered if he weren't still a virgin.

"That'd put me right off that would. Whatever happened to the good old days when they used to lie back and think of England? "

However, Ray's attempt at chummy laughter quickly faded as he realised that his guv wasn't joining in. Another silence. Alex could hear mugs being slammed around as Gene attempted to make himself a cup of tea. She crept closer, straining to hear Ray's next words. Alex had the feeling that she shouldn't be eavesdropping but she had to admit that she was finding their conversation fascinating.

"What was she like?" Ray asked, quietly.

"Like?"

"I mean, was everything in the right place or were things sagging a bit?"

"Ray my friend, we're all sagging a bit… or hadn't you noticed?"

"Speak for yourself ... She's a bit on the skinny side, though."

"Don't care… but I can report that everything about DI Drake is very nice… very nice indeed."

Bastard, she thought even though she had a smile on her face. Alex had thought that she was in good shape but it was nice to have confirmation.

"You know that foreplay you were on about? Doesn't that mean you have to… kiss her… you know… downstairs inside?" Ray went on.

"Yes."

"Did you?"

"No."

"But you were going to?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because I'd like to get into her knickers more than once!"

"More than once! I don't know what's happened to you Guv. When we came down here it was you and me ... love 'em and leave 'em… then Drake wiggled her arse in your direction and suddenly …"

Ray's words were cut off mid-sentence. It sounded for a moment as if he was choking on something.

"Don't say it Ray," Gene hissed.

"You're loved up!" The disgust in Ray's voice was almost comical.

"Don't!"

"All right, all right… I was just making an observation."

"Go get Tobias back up from the cells."

"Yes Guv."

Sensing that Ray was about to put as much distance as possible between himself and the angry DCI, Alex hurried back to her desk. Ray glared at her as he walked past, muttering something about posh tarts, but Alex pretended that she hadn't heard. She waited, some instinct telling her that now was not the time to talk to Gene. The conversation was playing on her mind. Inviting Gene up to her flat had been her way of rewarding him for telling her the truth about Sam Tyler … and giving him something to remember her by. It obviously meant a hell of a lot more to Gene.

His soft kisses, the tender touches had surprised her. Without even trying he had made her feel desired, wanted… safe. But this was Gene Hunt, a man so far from her type that he might as well have been on the other side of the universe. Sometimes she despised him with a passion but her stomach was doing a happy girly flip at the thought that he might want more than a one-night stand.

And then there was Molly… however attached she was to this place, to Gene… Alex knew that she'd leave in a second if she could spend just one more day with her daughter. Gene deserved her honesty in that respect… even if he ended up hating her for it. She let her head drop into her hands, wondering when her life had become so complicated.

When Gene finally appeared he sauntered over to her, hands tucked into his belt. His confidence seemed to have returned now that he didn't have to face an intimate situation with a woman that he actually liked.

"So… Bolly… just time for a quickie on my desk?"

"No," Alex told him in no uncertain terms. "And don't you have a suspect to interview?"

"Spoilsport."

He turned away, heading towards the double doors.

"Gene," Alex called after him.

"What?"

"We need to talk."

"Isn't that lady speak for 'there's no way you're getting a shag tonight'?"

"Later… when this is all over."

"Yeah… later."

/\/\/\/\/\/\

Alex waited for him… face scrubbed clean of make-up, the dress having been replaced with leggings and a sweater. Viv's funeral, Keats, Chris… the past twenty-four hours had been shit. She just wanted to forget it all. By the time the knock came, she was half asleep and wishing that she could be curled up under her duvet.

He looked exhausted.

"Drink?" she offered, turning away from him.

"No."

She felt his hands rest lightly on her hips, effectively preventing her from moving away.

"No more dancing Bolls," he whispered, his breath caressing her cheek. "Say what you have to and let me go home."

Alex closed her eyes, home seemed like such an abstract concept. A place she barely remembered. Resting her hands over Gene's, Alex twined her fingers with his.

"It's not that easy, Gene," she told him.

He let go, moving away from her, his annoyance evident.

"Yes it is. We either move this to the bedroom or we forget the whole sodding thing. I don't want games, Alex, I just… I just want you."

"My daughter..."

And his arms were around her again, pulling her close. Damn the man for making this so difficult. Why couldn't he just be his usual bastard self? Be the man she hated.

"I know… I know," he breathed.

He held her close, stroking her hair, dropping tiny kisses on her neck and face. Suddenly, Alex didn't want to fight him any more. She was sick and tired of it. This place had held her in its thrall for three years. Maybe there was no way out… at least not for her. If that were the case then she'd be stupid to throw this away. In her head Alex saw an image of her hospital room, the clock flicking over to 9:06. She had the feeling that, whatever happened tonight, there would be no happy ending. However much Alex fought against the inevitable, Molly was becoming nothing more than a distant dream.

This… this felt real, the rough wool of Gene's coat against her cheek, the scent of his last cigarillo. At his gentle insistence, Alex raised her head, looking deep into his eyes. It seemed he wanted no other reply. She made a small incoherent sound as his lips brushed against hers. It might have been a moan but it certainly wasn't a protest. She needed this, needed him.

Drunk on his kisses, Alex wondered vaguely if her heart should be making such a noise… only to realise that the loud knocking came from the door to the flat. She pulled Gene closer, hoping that they could ignore it but the moment, it seemed, was broken. He tore himself away from her with a loud exclamation.

"You have got to be kidding me!"


	3. Chapter 3

Alex let her head rest against Gene's chest for a moment, wishing that they could ignore the insistent knock.

"Wait in the living room, I'll get rid of them," she told him.

To Alex's surprise, Gene didn't argue. He moved away without a word. Alex wasn't sure if he just wanted to please her or whether there was some deeper motivation. She hoped he didn't think that she was embarrassed to be seen with him. Once he was out of sight, Alex tried to compose herself. She pushed her hair behind her ears and straightened her clothing before moving to open the door.

"Alex," there was a smile on Jim Keats face, he seemed unreasonably happy and Alex had the feeling that he knew exactly what he was interrupting.

"This isn't a good time," she said but he didn't take the hint. Alex glanced over her shoulder, aware that Gene could hear every word.

"I had your photo's developed."

Despite herself, Alex reached out to take the envelope and let the black and white photos spill out into her hands. She flicked through them… Ray and Chris … a dark haired woman … Gene with an actual smile on his face… a farmhouse. Alex felt the bottom drop out of her world. She knew this place. She'd seen it in her dreams. Flicking the photo over she saw the words 'I think we've found our grave'. She stared up at Keats, wanting reassurance, wanting him to tell her that it wasn't true. Had Gene lied to her? Alex felt physically sick at the thought... she'd let him touch her, kiss her… She looked behind her again and…

Gene was there.

Leaning against the wall, he'd discarded his waistcoat and jacket. With his blonde hair mussed and his shirt un-tucked he looked delightfully shaggable.

"I hope they're not dirty photos, Jimbo."

Alex's breath caught in her throat as he took the photos from her, his hand brushing against hers for slightly longer than was necessary. She couldn't tell whether it was reassurance or a warning.

"Where did these come from?" he asked.

"She took the film from your desk."

"Gene… I can explain…" Alex protested. Unfortunately, the words 'a ghost told me to' probably weren't going to help the situation.

"Can you Alex?" he asked. He held up the picture of the farmhouse. "I wonder about you sometimes. All that psychology shit and it turns out that you know nothing about me. You actually think I'd be daft enough to take a sodding photo? If I had killed bloody Tyler I would have made sure that no one found the body… especially not a bastard like him! "

Gene made a sudden move towards Keats, looking angry enough to do more than just punch him.

"Gene no!"

Alex quickly stepped between the two men, trusting that Gene wouldn't hit her instead. He didn't.

"Get out of my way Alex," he growled.

She grabbed Gene's hands, entangling his fingers with her own.

"Listen to me," she pleaded, "He's not worth it. I trust you, that's all that matters."

Giving a tug on his hands, she pulled him close, wrapping her arms around his neck. She felt him tense at the obvious public display of affection but Alex didn't care, she wasn't about to let him go. She kissed his neck, his cheek, his lips but it seemed an age before his arms crept around her. He was right. Through all this she had completely ignored the rational side of her mind. Keats had seduced her emotions, and she'd only been able to see the bad in Gene. It was her fault they were in this mess. She'd let Keats worm his way between them.

"Very nice… very pretty… And what happened to DC Anne Cartwright? Did she 'disappear' as well Gene?"

"Annie's with Sam," Gene said. "He wouldn't go anywhere without her… soft Southern, nancy …"

"But you don't know where … how convenient. "

Keats switched his attention back to Alex. He wanted her. She could feel him drawing her in. The darkness in his eyes scared her far more than Gene ever had. There was no passion there. She was convinced that Keats wasn't doing this because he cared about her.

"Perhaps you should speak to someone who really knows him, who suffered by being with him. You never talk about your ex-wife do you Gene?"

He almost sounded sincere, but Alex was sick of this. He was using her as a pawn in a larger game, nothing more.

"Enough!" she hissed. "I've made my choice, for better or for worse and I would appreciate it if you could shut up and get the hell out of my house… sir!"

"You're making a mistake. "

"Get out or I will let him hit you. "

"You heard the lady... piss off, Jimbo." There was no trace of humour in Gene's voice. Alex held onto him tightly, still convinced that he was going to do something they would both regret. Perhaps Keats felt that too because he finally started to walk away, only to turn and speak to Alex one last time.

"Go to Farringfield Green. Then you'll know the truth… you'll see him for what he really is. It's the only way you'll get back to your daughter."

The door closed, leaving a painful silence behind. Alex didn't know what to say. Convinced that she'd ruined any chance they might have had, she moved away from Gene. With shaking hands, she found a couple of glasses and poured them both a drink. He was looking at the photos again, fixated on the one of himself and Sam.

"You look happy," she said softly.

"Best time of my life," he admitted. Gene took the glass from her and knocked the whiskey back in one before walking into the living room and picking up his coat and jacket.

"Best be off," he said.

"You don't have to go," Alex told him, "I don't want you to go."

"Early start tomorrow."

"Right."

"If we leave at eight we should get to Bolton by lunch time... but don't think for a moment that I'm letting you drive the Quattro."

She stared at him, not understanding.

"Why?"

"You want to go," he said simply.

"Yes I do."

Alex hated herself for admitting it, but if there was a chance that she could get home…

"Gene…" she tried to explain but he cut her off with a soft kiss.

"Saturday night. We'll do this properly. You can put on your skimpy dress and I'll take you dancing. How does that sound?"

"Sounds wonderful."

"Right then. Try and get some sleep. I'll see you later."

He kissed her again before he left. Alex clung to him almost desperately; wanting to hold onto this moment. Some part of her knew that they would never dance again.

/\/\/\/\/\/\

Farringfield Green. Gene didn't know why the name was so familiar. Sitting in his darkened office he tried to grab hold of the trace of a memory.

A farmhouse.

A gunshot.

Falling.

Blackness.

Stars.

Gene slammed his glass down so hard that it shattered. He wasn't going to give into this shit. He looked up to see Keats standing there, looking down at him.

"Soon," the other man crooned.

/\/\/\/\/\/\

**The End**


End file.
